


Epilogue

by neko11lover



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5939920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neko11lover/pseuds/neko11lover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nanjiroh opens a coffee shop, Ryoga learns to bake, and Ryoma, at 35, is still growing up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [that-yellow-flower](http://that-yellow-flower.tumblr.com) for [TRSE 2015](http://theryosakuexpress.tumblr.com/post/135373603214/deadline-for-sign-ups-on-december-25-2015) who requested a coffee shop or a library AU. ; ; I hope I didn't make anything too cliché or OOC. Also, sorry in advance! I haven't had the time to get this beta'd since I wanted to get it in before the deadline. 
> 
> Future-set coffee shop AU, where Ryoma didn’t come back after he first left.

_You’ve got to enjoy yourself. The evening’s the best part of the day. You’ve done your day’s work. Now you can put your feet up and enjoy it. That’s how I look at it. Ask anybody, they’ll all tell you. The evening’s the best part of the day._

– The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro

 

I.

 

It doesn’t take much to get Echizen Ryoma to go back home.

It’s about time, really. The matches have been getting younger, Ryoma’s hands and knees are starting to get a little stiff at night, and his contemporaries have been dropping off the pro scene one by one. The worst of it is that he’s starting to get along with Nanjiroh, actually enjoying the older man’s company more than he’d care to admit. 

He tried to stick to it for as long as he can, he really did. But at 35 and getting a bad case of tendonitis right before a major match, he calls it quits. Reluctantly, he agrees to hold a small press conference and an intimate party. Standard procedure, his agency had assured him. So in more or less 12 hours, he officially ends a two-decade long tennis career.

After all the formalities, he’s back in the car, driving Nanjiroh and himself back to their house. It makes Ryoma jump a little when the older man speaks.

“Let’s go back to Japan,” he says, looking ahead. “You can call Ryoga. What’s he doing, anyway? It’s time he stopped playing around. Let’s open up a coffee shop over there; your mom had always wanted to do that. We can still use the old temple. Nanako said they’ve kept it up for us.”

This is the first time Ryoma’s heard him talk about his mother ever since she passed.

“When you’re retired, you gotta fill your mind up with something, kid. Gotta keep your hands busy. I’m too old to play tennis with you, so we’re going to do this instead. You’ll get to see your old friends or something, and you get to keep a cat again,” Nanjiroh continues. He runs his hand through his thinning, white hair, down to his gray stubble. “I’m tired of seeing blondes, anyway. It won’t be so bad.”

“Okay,” Ryoma says, finally, still facing front. He tries to count the years until he looks like his father. “Let’s do it.”

 

 

It takes them two years to move.

Ryoma had to complete a couple of sponsorship contracts. There were papers to file, accounts to open and close, visits to be made. Their mailboxes had been constantly full of letters and gifts, both from fans and friends alike. Finding it pointless to keep their house in the US, they also decided to put it on the market.  The flurry of activity almost made Ryoma forget about the retirement.

Almost.

There were mornings when he’d wake up and take his tennis racket and gym bag. He would only realize that it’s all over when he’s already in the car, halfway to the tennis centre. The drive home would always be a glum, embarrassing affair. Nanjiroh does a good job of pretending not to notice.

Eventually, however, everything gets settled, and Ryoga finally calls them, saying that it’s all been set up in Japan, and asks when they’d finally get their asses there because he’d already booked barista courses and there’s no way in hell that he can take those when he’s already going to do the baking.

“And I got your cat. I thought you’d want another Himalayan,” he says, slightly irritated. “I hate cats, so you better come fast before I give him away. Nanako’s been hinting at taking him the first chance she gets.”

A few days later, they make their way home.

They name the cat _Botan_ , and the café _Rinko_.

 

II.

 

The coffee shop is a quaint, homey little place right across the old temple. It can fit 20 people comfortably, has bright, yellow walls, with a generous amount of flowers outside. Most of the decor had been made with the plans Rinko had penned and left behind, save for a bookshelf by the corner, which was Ryoma’s, and a picture of Rinko on one of the walls, which was Nanjiroh’s.

“She wanted this for a long time,” the old man says, after Ryoga teased him about the photo. His eyes are faraway. Ryoma thinks that this is both of them, watching their father grow old right before their eyes. They don't say anything about it again.

He also finds out the following: Taka’s been in charge of their sushi shop ever since he graduated high school. He’s married with two kids. Momoshiro works in a government office and is engaged – Ryoma _must_ be there no matter what, he says. Kaidoh’s with a bank, and he’s married, as well. No kids. Yet. Eiji and Oishi are business partners, and they’re running a sports centre together. Tezuka is a lawyer, and Fuji is a college researcher. They’ve been living together for five years now. Ryoma doesn’t see the ones in the city that often, but they do drop by occasionally. He’s been told that they get together once in a while, and that Ryoma should come. None of them mention tennis.

 _But it’s not so bad_ , he tells himself, recalling his father’s words like a mantra. He hasn’t touched a racket since they got back. _It’s not so bad._

After the first few busy months of moving in and reunion parties and local interviews and barista classes, the days finally slow down into what Ryoma assumes is his new normal. Half a year in, and the initial hype dies down, and the shop’s customers trickle down to a modest number. The old guys from Seigaku have made sure that it’s still the same old neighborhood, despite the fact that they haven’t been in touch for a long time now. Ryoma feels himself finally settling back in.

 

Today, Horio’s in the cafe for a visit. Ryoma learns that he’s a professional comedian now, appearing on national TV.

“Kachiro and Katsuo are doing fine,” Horio reports, pointing his sunglasses at Ryoma. “Kachiro’s in London right now. He’s writing for a magazine. You’d be surprised, he speaks English and French! Katsuo’s a policeman in Osaka; they moved there back when we were second years. He hasn’t visited, but we email once in a while. I went to his wedding.” Horio sniffs, before dramatically drinking his coffee. “Man, it really makes you feel all nostalgic, huh? I thought those two were hopeless, but look at them now.”

Ryoma chuckles at this, while Nanjiroh scoffs loudly from the counter.

“Oh, right. Remember that girl?”

Ryoma feels his shoulders tense, and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“The loud one in charge of your fan club? Osakada?” Horio continues, completely oblivious. Ryoma relaxes, deflating a little. “Oh, man, you won’t believe this, Echizen. She’s a flight attendant now. We dated once, but I guess I was too much for her. Anyway, guess what!” Horio leans in conspiratorially. “She married Atobe!” He throws his hands up in the air.

“Hooh,” Ryoma marvels, nodding. “The Monkey King, huh.”

“Yeah, Atobe Keigo! Jesus! I still can’t believe it, myself! I think they met on a flight to Spain or something. It was in the news, you couldn’t have missed it!” Horio’s phone beeps and he takes it out. “Ah, crap. Look, Echizen. I gotta go. Taping starts in an hour, you know. They won’t start until I’m there. I’ll go visit next week or something. I’ll text you.”

Ryoma opens his mouth to ask for more, but he stops himself when Horio practically jumps to the door.

“Sorry, man. I’m running late. I’ll talk to you next week!” Horio stops long enough to pause by the door. He gives Ryoma a lopsided grin. “You don't look half-bad, Echizen. It’s great that you’re back.”

“Of course.” Ryoma allows himself a small smirk, before waving him off. “Go.”

Horio nods, makes Ryoma promise to watch his show at 7PM sharp, and he lets the door slam behind him.

 

III.

It’s a Monday morning, and Ryoma’s grinding the beans. The bell rings, and he hears Ryoga greet their first customer for the day. There is shuffling, the sound of shoes padding against the wooden floor and then the sudden stop.

“What can I get you?” Ryoga asks, laughter in his voice.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Nanjiroh look up from his magazine to the customer, and then at him. Nanjiroh sighs, before tucking the magazine under his arm. He stands up and mutters, “I need a smoke” before heading out the back door.

“Ah—an Americano, please. And a carrot muffin.”

Ryoma pauses for a fraction of a second.

He hears the shoes again, and then a chair being pulled back. A few seconds later, Ryoga’s standing next to him.

“She looks like your type,” Ryoga whispers over the sound of the grinding, as he slips the receipt in front of Ryoma. “So I’m giving you this one.” He’s pleasantly surprised when Ryoma doesn’t argue. The older Echizen gives him a pat on the shoulder before heading to the kitchen.

Ryoma chooses to ignore all this, because he’s decided to brew the best cup of coffee he has brewed thus far. He takes his time, measuring the granules, the water temperature. Heating the milk. Pouring the homemade syrup. He’s taking his time, but no other customer comes by. He decides that enough’s enough, and he pours two cups of coffee, and makes his way to her table.

“Hello,” she greets. “Ryoma-kun.”

He pulls the empty seat in front of her, and serves them both the coffee.

“Ryuzaki.”

He observes Sakuno’s face. He thinks that little has changed physically, except that her hair’s shorter, only reaching up to her shoulders now. Fine lines are showing at the corners of her eyes. Her laughlines are deeper. Eyes brighter. But he understands that the person sitting in front of him is different.

He realizes that she’s doing the same. She’s looking at him in silent marvel, as if taking him in. She doesn’t say anything, but he hears it – _You’ve changed_. Ryoma wonders if she sees the same kind of person he sees in the mirror everyday, definitely a leap from the boy she had last seen him as. At least in person. He wonders how she finds everything: The stockier build. His own fine lines. The signs of gray hair peppering his temples.

Her smile makes him smile back.

“Welcome home,” she says softly, self-conscious. “I took a long time coming.”

“You didn’t get lost on the way again?” This makes her burst out laughing, and it gives him a boost of courage to continue. “It’s fine. I didn’t write back,” he says. “We’re even.”

“Aa, it was a long time ago. I didn’t really expect you would, to be honest.”

She had written him a lot of letters. A lot of photographs. Sent him some of her books. He remembers.

“Ah! Don’t worry about it,” she stammers, suddenly looking worried. He wonders what expression he had put on. She reaches across the table to hold his hand, and Ryoma feels something cold and metal against his skin. “It’s not my intention to bring it up and make this weird... really. I-It’s okay.”

He glances down, and she pulls her hand back, suddenly embarrassed. She presses her hand against her chest, and she thumbs the ring carefully. 

“Around five years ago,” she explains.

Ryoma nods. “I got the invitation.” His mother made sure he did. Ryoga had wanted him to crash the wedding.

“He wants to meet you, actually! He’s a big fan. We met on the field; he took the photos.” She lets down her hands and takes the coffee. Her eyes lower, and Ryoma follows them down to her coffee.

Ryoma’s throat feels suddenly tight. And he thinks: so this is how it feels.

They were supposed to be The Great Love Story, once upon a time. It’s a tried and tested formula – the blazing, passionate, brat of a boy and the cute, kind, quiet girl. The “I’ll wait for you” and the “I’ll come back home to you” stand as constants in the whole equation. But somewhere along the line, the variables changed. The boy was blazing and passionate, but not for her. Tennis had to come first. The girl was cute and kind and quiet, but she had a heart too large for a life of simply waiting.

He thinks of his mother, who had wanted so many things, but had to put them off. First for Nanjiroh. And then for him.

He understands this at that moment: between the two of them, there are no hearts breaking.

“Well,” Ryoma says, pushing back the chair. “We’ll visit Coach Ryuzaki soon so we’ll probably meet. I’ll give him a hard time.”

“Oh, no,” she laughs lightly. “I’ll make sure to warn him.”

He regards her. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” Sakuno says, and there’s something in her voice that catches. She clenches her fists on the table, and Ryoma sees tears pooling in her eyes. When she speaks again, she does so with emotion.

“I knew you could do it, Ryoma-kun. You did so well.” He meets her eyes, glistening and searching. In them, he sees his twelve-year-old self. The version of him that she, once upon a time, loved. When he blinks, the boy’s gone. And it’s him again: almost forty, and getting by.

“Of course,” he tells her, a smirk on his lips. He gestures to the bookshelf, and he watches Sakuno flush in pleasure at the sight of her books, all of which he had kept. Between the lines, they both hear Ryoma’s confession: I loved you, too. His next words are quiet, but sincere. “I couldn’t lose to you, could I?”

“Are you happy, Ryoma-kun?” she asks, hands clenched around the mug.

“I am,” he tells her. And he means it. “I will be.”

At this, she relaxes, and she nods. “I am, too.”

 

Ryoga takes that moment to come out of the kitchen, and the whole place is filled with the smell of freshly-baked muffins. Years later, Ryoma will associate this smell with the start of a good friendship, one that will last until both he and Sakuno have gotten old.

But at that moment, oblivious to what the future holds, Ryoma excuses himself, and goes back to work.

 

IV.

That same night, Ryoma decides to play again.

He doesn’t make a big event out of it – he picks up his racket and gym bag, and shouts, “I’m going out!” On the way, he pets Botan as the cat wraps himself around his leg, asking to come along. Ryoma carries him as far as the doorway, but leaves him behind as he steps out. Right across their home, the coffee shop stands. This is his life now, Ryoma thinks. But it’s not going to be all there is.

The night is cool and quiet. Ryoma walks to the nearest court, and makes all the right turns.

When he gets there, the metal halide floodlights and the sounds of tennis warm him up. He pulls down his cap, and knocks on the ground with his shoe.

The court welcomes him home.

 

x


End file.
